FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 61

The temple was more packed and beautiful than ever, citizens were pouring through the halls in what seemed like unending waves, something she was afraid that will collapse raised on unexpected levels. Catastrophes, especially those related to faith, always had devastating effects, she had seen faith fading in many pilgrims before who turned away from the Ancestors when faced with a chain of unfortunate events. All those painful experiences, no matter how many of them could be there, were in no place to be compared to the Darkness that had befallen on Warfang, she was certain that the temple, together with the population, would never recover from that blow.

And now, standing here, with a pristine robe wrapped over her blue scales basking in the rays of serenity radiating from the many eyes, she never felt more ashamed. She didn't see herself as a Seeker material, didn't see any special traits Brill spoke about, she was mediocre at best and that was still wishful thinking, the reality was far more dull.

Of everyone here, she was the one who first lost faith in any recovery.

And standing here right now, proved that she was also the last that had seen that the need for Ancestral guidance had not collapsed, it got empowered together with the recovery of the Seeker. She wished she would be surprised by this turn of events, yet the shame eating at her soul did not allow itself to be mistaken for anything else. How could it be something else when she was a witness to the power of faith alone holding ground against blood and darkness.

What other evidence of her own fading faith she needed than her own ignorance of past experience and the unbelievable sight of the Seeker struggling to rebuild despite his personal misjudgment of potential?

Despite all the flaws and worries, put together with the Taint housed inside her very eye, she was still standing here, on this peaceful marble floor with no sign of being burned to ashes. Opportunities that the temple provided in abundance.

Rays of the sun were pouring through the many cleaned windows and openings, the strength of the beams could easily be mistaken for a draconic breath if there would be any Light dragon alive. Some of those rays touched her directly, covering her body in light as warm and cuddly like a mother's embrace.

Despite it all, Ancestors were still with her.

If there was any truth to Brill's calling as the avatar of Ancestor's will it shouldn't be surprising that the divine look at her with favor after he anointed her as the future Seeker. Yet both of them were aware that the voice he heard stood in total opposition to anything one might consider holy, a twisted projection of a wishful mind that played on one's emotions more adequately than any nightmare one might think of.

Following this logic, even after being purged, she was a perfect example that evil doesn't vanish entirely, there exist layers of it that are immovable, who could say with all certainty that one such touch wasn't carried over with the Seeker's blessing?

A sound argument if she could say so herself, one that should wake up her uneasy limbs for another, full of fear race. She didn't move though, the lights shining on her paired with the relived looks of the passing citizens were simply something that her priestly heart couldn't ignore. As a cleric she was aware that life cannot truly shine without evil keeping it always on its toes, yet, as a proclaimed Seeker and one, quite literally, viewing the world with some darker shades she began to understand that there is nothing wrong with a little darkness when at the end it serves the greater good.

Perfection doesn't exist, she was the most prominent example of it that could be, but that doesn't mean one shouldn't try striving for it. Miracles do happen after all and if the temple is any hindsight one should never lose hope for things turning better eventually. It was precisely like someone intelligent said to her once - if you can't do great things right away then do many small things in a great way.

And the first step in this journey of many small, great things was acknowledging that the temple was thriving under renewed gale of faith.

"I don't get it"

Coriza balked, lips stretching with a trained move of a cleric knowing her enemy that is doubt. She turned around, observing her feathery companion whose head was jumping between each passerby, with only a handful of them paying him any heed.

"All sentient creatures have an innate desire for attention, although, as illogical as it might be, nothing compares to the freedom of invisibility, no matter how short lived it might be. The constant battle between heart and mind is a curious struggle indeed"

"What?" Cloudas shook his head "No, it's not that. Good that folks don't trample me, I'm nothing important anyway. What I don't understand is how all of you can still cling to a fake strength of some dude who was responsible for all this mess in the first place. Especially when it was the Shapers and even you to some degree that ended all that Taint crap or whatever"

"Faith is easily overlooked, yet it posses potential to shape one's will with word alone. A power that can warp reality without the noise of claws clanking cannot be underestimated. It can do so much good if channeled properly"

"Who the hell are you?" feathery head tilted back "That old dude got into your head way too hard, not only you talk like some fanatic you also jumped the terrified train onto the nice and dandy one pretty quickly. Just a moment ago you didn't know where you were going and now you are a pretty, obedient cleric, what a change"

Honesty, this was a virtue so lacking in this world, one that was crucially needed despite its painful flaws. She respected it greatly, despite its unwelcome reputation it was a force to be reckoned with. Nothing like it built trust in such a way, nothing like it allowed to understand the heart of the one you speak with, nothing like it developed built foundations for strong bonds.

Nothing hurt more like it. Coriza tugged at her hair, stretching the strands over the already obscured eye beyond the physical limits of her hair, ripping away a lock or two in the process.

"Taint flutters behind my eye Cloudas. Corruption never knocked harder on the door of my soul, there is only so much respect for the Ancestors I can offer before I fade away and still I fear that it won't be enough for me to rest among the stars"

Wrinkles so deep appeared on the feathery snout that they turned the once young snout into a writhed mask of an elder. She looked so beautiful in the rays of the sun, an usually petite girl buffed up her posture so much that a single glance was enough to feel respect for her. Cloudas however no longer saw that strength, even though the light was still shining through the windows, still illuminating her in the same form as it did previously, he couldn't help but to notice that shadows had befallen onto her silhouette. Something that supposed to have the round edges of a cloud was serrated by even shapes, plenty of them, each and every very one of them very familiar.

Each and every one of them looking precisely like his feathers. He already can't look at the mirror without having a heartache, would be very bad if he stopped sleeping too.

"I'm sorry, I swear that one day I'll slice my own tongue. If that Taint wants to vent out in any way just send it at me. I walked without being stomped on for long enough anyway"

She wanted to smile, as painful as honesty might be regret is what makes it sweeter to bear, harsh word always tasted better with a little humor on the side, Sparx taught her that well. Her lips didn't want to move though, she wasn't stupid to believe that the thing that hurt her eye was anything else but pure evil. Being controlled by it personally however was completely different from the risk of having the temptation to hurt others, to consume others as Brill said.

And there was nothing more barbaric than digesting another sentient creature.

They say after all that life doesn't tolerate void, she was proclaimed to be Hollow by more than one worthy soul already. If the theories are true, then it's only a matter of time before she will reach out for her fill. With the images of the portal splashing carpets of blood through the corridor she once considered holy still flashing before her eyes, she could already imagine how would the banquet begin.

Everyone would forget how to smile with such a perspective looming over one's soul.

"I cannot hold you responsible for your honesty, my actions do not differ much from brushing one's tooth several times a day when it already hurts. However, as futile as it might be..." she raised her eyes to the sky, closing the healthy one she uncovered the other, it gazed straight through the ray, the warm touch of the light crashing against the beige pupil with the strength of a freshly born child grabbing a finger "...I cannot resist the temptation to fill the void with some brightness"

He felt like a fool many times, but making a dumb mistake was one thing, ridiculing something he done himself is completely another. Cloudas grabbed the chain around his neck, pushing away to toy necklace, feeling the burning stare of the reflection demanding his attention. How many times he had done the same? Searching for answers and sense in the light of the stars in his darkest hours? Did he even really stop after all these years?

No, of course not, and now he judges someone else for needing grace. Yes, he could add this moment to the register of stupidity, no doubts about that.

Deep wrinkles scrunched his nose, affirming him in his claim that it will take a very long time still before he acknowledge his reflection with disgust squeezing his stomach. To think that there are those that called this choking bitterness honesty, he would call them fools if not for the realization that years passed and he still didn't cross over the border of his personal idiocy.

"I really hope it works out for you, light suits you, so don't give up on it" he never believed he would sweet talk again, relying on false hope wasted a huge chunk of his life already. Yet in her case, this didn't feel like a worthless endeavor at all, all those prophecies aside, Coriza had a certain pull in her which had nothing to do with Taint, Hollow or whatever other insane theory. For some reason, if he accepts the possibility that someone might show the way to freedom of mundanity, he sensed that she had the highest chances of doing that.

His sister was like that once too, he could only wish that Coriza won't meet the same end.

"Weren't you the one that told me that struggle is unnecessary because only the will of the Shapers can change our lives?" a tender smile danced at the corner of the lips.

"Well...yeah" he pulled at the tuft of feathers on the cheek "But I never said you shouldn't meet reality without satisfaction"

Coriza's attention skimmed over the illumination, passed over some pilgrims, acknowledged the greetings of others, so many opportunities to feel fulfilled as a faithful cleric and yet, something that not so long ago was everything she needed, now seemed to be trivial and not worth of attention.

Disgusting even if believing the beige shining from behind the strands of hair.

Satisfaction unable to find its way from underneath its skirt.

Claws searched for a hold in the floor, the failure of this endeavor announced with a chip, small fraction of a polished, draconic nail skipped across the ground like a stone through water, reverberating with the sound of a pulled like a string vein.

Blood sloshed inside, turning icy cold while earholes listened to the clicking noise, noise that instead ending with a wet slap simply faded, eaten by oblivion. What a cruel irony, to think she believed that the consequences of their struggle against the Taint will bring unrecognizable and perhaps deadly consequences to the temple and Faith itself. As it turned out however Warfang not only found peace but its people flocked to the holy grounds carrying on their shoulders newfound purpose, feeding on it fully.

When she was the only one starving.

"Now that's a sight for sore eyes" a spotted tail flicked in the temple's doorstep, the owner tripping when a sudden image of a leaning in feminine body with ample breasts flashed before his eyes.

"We all are mere specks of dust under the Ancestors watchful gaze" long claws of a mole dressed in charming robes stopped the silhouette from shaking "But please, do try not taking it literally too much"

"Thank you" Hunter bowed with a grateful smile, what once was a display of joy now faded into a thin line of typical for his personality show of irritation "Could you stop blinding me whenever you speak?"

"I could" another image, in it she brought her arms forward, enlarging with a proper squish a mound that was quite enticing already "But where's the fun in that, hmm?"

He winced, slamming eyelids so hard that he could feel them burrowing into the skull. It didn't help, whether it was simply a male instinct speaking, or Hope's proficiency in magic, the end was always the same - he was never able to shield himself from the images.

"We are in a temple, decency is required here. You're making this task difficult to achieve by distracting me all the time.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Am I doing something you don't like and it bothers you? How petty of me, if only we could find a reason for that" there was no image this time, only a jab of heat announcing its presence on the skin behind his shirt. Among the faint sound of cracking flames jingled soft tunes of spoken prayers.

His scouting instinct flared to life immediately, supplementing his rather bright mind with the necessary clues. To be fair, it's not like she tried really hard to conceal the reason for her disapproval.

"Are you really punishing me for pursuing my own peace of mind? I already explained that I needed it, the burden I-

"Stop crying" another flash of heat scorched the chest, even though the leap in temperature was brief, the voice that spoke moment was no less fiery "Who would have thought that I would be unhappy from licking your piss from my fur. I have my kinks, but there is always a line where respect ends and depravity begins."

"Here I thought you were all about seizing life by the throat, with all the good and bad that comes with it"

"Girls have standards and luckily for you my flexible cushion you fit right into them. Almost" again an image burned its presence into his sight, again there was a body presented there, yet this time it was not that of Hope's but a blue scaled cleric dressed in white robes "Partially because of the company you keep"

Even though there was quite a crowd traversing the temple grounds, his eyes locked themselves on the subconscious target with ease, seeing her even through the passing clothes of the citizens. That was the easy part of the subconscious nudge, the harder part of it still escaped his comprehension.

"Coriza? Why are you so interested in her all of a sudden"

"You know what's more interesting in a world full of magic? Spheres of life where it's completely lacking"

"I don't understand"

"Let's just say that the girl reminds me of someone that I used to know, just like her she too stood on the border between existence and total oblivion, between noise and complete silence. Fearing where the next step will take her since with time neither seems like a good result. The one I used to know would give everything back then for the chance our cute priestess has, imagine a life without pressure where each of its allures is indifferent to you, what a curious thing that would be, no?" he saw a rising chest, the hands that were outstretched a while ago now obscured the pair of the most alluring treasure a fervent mind of a male can find on a female's torso "To merely spectate the unending race to power, untouched and undisturbed by its demands, a curious thing indeed. A quirk that stands out in this forsaken grounds like the light of a lighthouse in a foggy night, everyone can see it, but only a chosen few are capable enough to take advantage of it"

Hunter's ears dropped on flat on the skull, hand automatically reached to scratch the yin-yang symbol that could serve as an artificial heart the way it melded into his flesh. Nothing happened, he was left alone to deal with the curiosity of the heard monologue, logically speaking, he shouldn't find it surprising that Hope is capable of notions of philosophical grandeur, she was an Ancestor after all. Frivolous perhaps, immensely childish for certain, yet heritage is heritage and he would be a fool to discard the possibility of her possessing unparalleled knowledge compared to a typical mortal being. Trapped or not, she was still a goddess of immaculate, magical potential.

Why then someone like her would be interested in a creature that lacks even a spark of it? He could tell that the priestess, for a dragon, when it comes to reserves of energy is subpar to other members of her species.

Something was amiss here, he wasn't sure what, but he doubted he would get a straight answer, not because Hope wouldn't not want to give it to him, but because, judging from the philosophical approach, she wasn't entirely sure what it is either. Even Ancestors have desires, perhaps this is no different than lust for example, everybody knows what it is yet nobody can explain the nuances behind its occurrence.

No matter how the cleric's future might look like, the attention of divinity guarantees extraordinary moments to happen, experience was speaking through him and yet, he wasn't such a conduit for the holy as the priestess was. And since he was aware of how uncanny known lore about the world is, he had strong objections if that was actually a good thing.

"I can tell you're squeezing that brain way too hard, so if you don't have a fetish for mushy tentacles leaking from your ears I suggest that you stop"

"I'm sorry" lips moved on their own, voicing out the almost illogical regret, they were two different creatures, united by a special bond, yes, but that didn't change the fact that he shouldn't be ashamed of his own thoughts.

Yet nevertheless felt so indebted to her that it was almost crazy to think he is so willing to give up on his own will.

"Look Hunter, if you really want to know how I feel I know of better ways how we can find that out" Hope appeared before him, yanking on her thin shirt with one hand and shorts with the other with such strength that snaps of material were heard.

"Sweet Ancestors!" he exclaimed, squeezing thoughts under thick layers of frowning fur at the sight of pinkish spots a gentlemen outside his mate's bedroom should never see.

"All it took was a peek!" there were no images this time, only melodic laughter "Now imagine how bigger of an attention you would get if we would really get down to business"

"What attention?" blush burning itself through the fur on his cheeks was everything he needed to answer that dilemma. Everyone gazed his way, the specter of emotion ranging from offense to support bashed him like waves hitting the shore. Ears began to flick, electrocuted by invisible bolts they knocked at the skull in a futile attempt to bury the legs it was attached to deeper and deeper into the ground.

He wielded magic now, had more than he ever wished for, yet, in this particular situation, he wasn't fulfilled, not until he possessed the power of invisibility.

"Yes brothers and sisters, give in! Sweet Ancestors let your grace overwhelm me!" nudged by the unintentional display of affection one of the older pilgrims dropped on her knees, rising her pleading, mole arms towards the sea of sculpted snouts.

Some pilgrims followed, others did not, whatever the outcome both behaviors shared a common consequence, they did caught the attention of the clerics, among them was the one that interested Hope so much.

"Great, the more weird guys the merrier, it's not like we have to deal with enough crazies already after all" Cloudas sighed

Blue wing gave the white hair a scolding, motherly shuffle before giving the familiar cheetah a warm, welcoming wave.

"Ancestors will be grateful, as am I, that you found your way into their embrace, considering all the extraordinary turmoil you've been through on top of an already powerful catastrophe"

"Someone told on usssss" Hope whistled.

Hunter narrowed his predatory eyes on the wind dragon.

"What? I've only told her you're weird, it's not like you're the first one that believes he's important"

"I apologize if you are offended, but I guarantee that Ancestors strictly forbid their servants from toying with the faithful. Information acquired by means outside a priest's direct intervention are a strictly secured secret. I act on my own will and my own judgment, basing my opinion on not what I hear from external sources..." Coriza adjusted slightly the strands covering her beige eye, yet even though the tuft was quite considerable, shrouding the pupil in what should be total darkness, the waving, familiar pattern still pierced through, distorted and glowing like a pile of treasure found in an underwater chest "... but on what I see myself"

Hunter could feel strands of his fur tingle, feeling them sharpen like grass touched by a breeze. He always felt humbled in the presence of dragons, this magnificent creatures were a work of wonder, a most dedicated invention Magic together with Nature could conjure, even now, when he was touched with a bit of otherworldly power himself, that respect still held true. In that one regard he could agree with Cloudas, as a being without those nearly divine origins, it would be inappropriate, to put it mildly, to consider oneself equal in comparison to creatures capable of ripping the world to shreds.

Yet he couldn't help himself, but to feel that the tingle of fur is closer to the sensation of his body tensing when he heard the noise of his stalked target nearby than actual respect. He learned to trust his scouting instincts, if not for the ceiling above his head he was certain that his loyal feathery companion with a cry would affirm him of the identity of the thing caressing his fur.

Danger.

Usually, whenever his natural hair would sense the probability of an attack, muscles would soon follow. Yet now, even though when danger basically seemed to knock at his forehead, limbs remained still. Not only them truth be told, but organs as well, not even his well attuned to the realities of spying heart displayed any notions of stretched mundanity of life.

He felt himself being locked in a strange limbo of almost palpable indecisiveness, where all around cracked colored in beige thunder. Despite its typical, aggressive nature these bolts didn't strike though, hanging outside the cage they merely poked the cage, no different from a rod playing a cold tune against the bars of a cell. There was no ill intent here though, every ringing strike seemed to be a consequence of a little too motivated, coincidental stretch which scared the bolt more than it did him.

"Damn, it really takes only a look to make you fall in love. Maybe I should change my tactic? My girls won't be happy about that, they quite enjoy being pampered you know" there was Hope again, sitting on the ground with crossed legs she twirled around a strand of her raven mane around a finger. Decently dressed and carefree, completely ignorant of any sense of danger, like the risk of being discovered for instance, something she herself warned him about no less.

And yet there was nothing, either Hope was fairly certain that even if somebody shares the news nobody would believe them, or she didn't consider the cleric a threat to her most valuable secret. Both cases were rather impossible for him to ignore, they were talking about souls who devote their lives to the rules of faith, having the influence of the Ancestors right in front of their noses would shake the entire temple. More so when properly when this new reality would be introduced by the beige storm in an eye that seemed to read your very soul.

How isn't she worried?

Or perhaps he is the one overreacting? Out of the two of them he's the one having difficulties coping with the aftermath of the events that had befallen onto him and the city in general after all.

Was it really only him alone that sees things differently now?

"And if I may be so humbled to voice the Ancestors feelings, they don't consider you weird at all, boundlessly welcoming you as their child" Hunter blinked, the spoken words stabbed his brain like daggers, bringing him back to reality where for a moment the world felt devoid of any life, leaving him only with the company of a cold steel.

Furry hand instinctively shielded covered in scorch marks symbol melded into the chest.

Cloudas remained silent, merely opting for a shake of the head, he liked her too much to be irritated by her pointless cling to non existent redemption. When he was a kid he too believed that the final rush, final change of heart can turn everything around in the last moment, rendering everything he did and happened unimportant.

If he had the guts, his reflection was there still to remind him how demanding life can be, if he only had the courage to face it that is. Coriza was following the same path, he had no idea if this Seeker position or the Taint is as bad as she says it is, he too once believed that living under the claws of the Shapers was a tragic fate, future showed that the alternative has also its cost. It would be so much easier for everyone if they could accept that comfort isn't as limiting as many might think. It is perhaps infuriating, boring and sometimes even unfair, but it always gives you that what you expect. He learned it himself that even when you feel you're capable of creating a better place for yourself, your imagined strength fails flat in confrontation with life's difficulties, after all, if people would be so determined for change, they wouldn't instinctively cling to the familiar strands of past life in their last, unavoidable moments.

Desperately believing that they can make amends when all was already lost.

He didn't like this version of Coriza, the priest in her was killing the scared, yet determined girl to make steady steps with her constantly shaky legs. Duty was silencing the alluring call of someone who helps because she enjoys it, not in fear of some elder or other magical force that supposedly rings with authority.

Faith served her well, but this too much reminded him of servitude for his liking. Would be all good if she was willing to commit to it from the start, but the Coriza he met had nothing to do with the cleric he sees now. He didn't have many friends in his life, but he always expected them to be the voice of reason pulling someone away from a wrong path before they ultimately get struck by pain. What he knew for sure though was that escaping from a cataclysm, no matter the size, is a bad decision to make, hurt is learning unfortunately, and he could only hope that it won't be strong to the point that it will cripple her will.

Because the other thing he knew for certain was that there was something impossibly alluring in the way Coriza represents faith with. A pull that tingle at the border between reality and dreams, echoing with a knock against a hollow brick wall.

There was something breathtaking about this strange void, rivaling the appeal of the dark horizon of stars high above in the sky it called to his childish fascination, making him wonder, if this is how it would feel like when wandering the corridors of stars.

And whether he was on board with the change of Coriza's behavior or not, he had to admit that he wasn't the only one willing to let his objections rest in the face of such an opportunity. The cheetah also dipped his desires into that specific pool, with no regard for the possibility, or lack thereof, of how to actually reach it.

Cloudas shook his head, clenching his paw over the toy amulet he punched it against his chest, cursing his shortsighted, oblivious soul. It was exactly like his sister said, he really had a weak spot for religious, fantasy drama, such curiosity took away his magic and now he is repeating the same mistake again. Chances of getting his renewed essence, miniscule as it may be, getting snatched again were minimal, but it didn't change the fact that if not him, then someone else will pay the price for succumbing to dreams mundane ants like them aren't even worth of touching.

They need to get away from this damn temple. It feels too much like an unlit casket full of dynamite for his liking.

Naturally, just when he was about to move, fate decided to play its wicked trick again, introducing into the temple no one else but the Guardian who shits higher than his ass is.

Even though the citizens of Warfang traveling in and out of the temple had their minds in the clouds so to speak, believing that they practically were traversing the same lane of divinity like the ones they worshiped. This mimicry of equality quaked in their foundation when the passing eyes exchanged looks with Cyril.

The Guardian stopped in the doorstep, turning his head so slowly that one might think there was a chain wrapped around the neck. Even from this distance the dragon looked older than even Cloudas remembered him, scanning the surroundings with the vigor of an elder he looked as if he was making sure that he is really in the place he wanted to be.

Coriza's heart stirred at this sight. In all its glory faith had the unfortunate role of being the most tempting for the ones who hear the Ancestors whispers the loudest. Of course, as a cleric she understood there was nothing wrong with that and the ones watching over them were aware of that as well, after all it is age in the end that makes us lonely and when all we cared about left the premises of mortal soil, there is only one direction one can turn to address them.

This unspoken rule created a comical illusion of a club where with time everyone knew everyone, where the young compared with the daily visitors were not worth to remember strangers who'll fade as quickly as they appeared. It were precisely these members who challenged the new visitor to their grounds, remembering well the Guardian's approach to the one representing the Ancestors on this world.

The difference was, that this time, there was no aggression and skepticism, only fear, yet not because there was a chance that history might repeat itself, everyone was prepared to accept that risk. It was fear for faith itself, even though everyone here accepted the reality for what it might be, everyone also knew that world operating on cold logic alone, with no one to aspire to, is a barren wasteland without soul.

Whether he liked it or not, Cyril was the spawn of such fright.

"And here I thought that our sweet priestess is the pinnacle of interest, but just look how her body tensed! You can even see the bones protruding from under the robe!" mirthful laughter exploded in Hunter's head "Here you have it, _seize the day_in all of its glory! Last time such passive mixture of hateful reverence happened to me I was forced to slaughter my way through my former followers" an image of a waving hand flashed before Hunter's eyes "But I'm sure you'll be fine"

It was a joke, must have been and yet Hunter couldn't silence his instinct from screaming. While it was not raising alarms just yet, reminders that sentient creatures share some aspects with wild animals were burning their marks clearly on his soul. Society followed somewhat the rules of a forest, meeting a predator didn't automatically mean you become its prey. Same rule applied here, though Cyril more than once showed his displeasure towards worship, it didn't mean he came here wanting to spread harm.

In fact he didn't look like a predator at all right now, but like a deer that sprinted towards its safe zone only to discover that it was scorched to a crisp.

Coriza, attuned to her priestly duties sensed the familiar sense of blindness she experienced so many times already. Ancestors demanded her intervention, if she was to ever beat the Taint scratching against the window to her soul she couldn't turn away from the opportunity to do some good, especially when all other of her coworkers weren't as keen to approach the Guardian like the rest of the faithful.

She pressed onwards, walking slow but steady in her step, aware of how important determination is for someone who became too well acquainted with exclusion and loss. Even the most troubled pilgrims brightened up when they say a smiling cleric heading their way, she still didn't know if it was because of the genuine care they radiated or the pristine color of their white robes calmed the soul, whatever it was, it worked and there was no reason it wouldn't do so in this case either.

The moment Cyril looked at her though, the so called determination was gone, replaced by her familiar clumsy companion who had no objections about forcing her paws into the hems of her robes. With no one to support her this time, jaw clapped against the floor like a hammer.

Surrounding clerics and pilgrims rushed to her side immediately, offering all their support they helped her again on her draconic feet. Even though she voiced her thanks, beige pupil remained locked on the Guardian, glancing past the floating strands right at the already shifting away eyes of the old dragon, squeezing droplets of sweat down the cheeks right from the very eyeballs.

She blinked, unable to believe what she just saw she rushed her thanks, trying to break through the overprotective crowd. Her efforts were as solid as her sight. Cyril's frame distorted itself like a rippling pool of water, the fog his silhouette had became seemed to be made out from the same droplets she saw slinking down his cheeks, crying them steadily like a melting icicle.

Every soul she examined followed the same pattern, becoming a bigger or a smaller mist in front of her Tainted touched eye. Even though she tried with all her might to keep bad thoughts away, her tongue nevertheless fought desperately to voice her disgust in almost all of those cases, especially in this place. Hunter was an exception, there was something about him, something that her tongue was ready to scream words of cherish alone.

The other was the Guardian. In his case though, the tongue remained as numb as her lower jaw after the accident. Odd considering that the gaseous form he had become was different from any other she had seen before, where everyone else was mostly a monotone cloud of their scale color, with the hint of thicker and less black on the majority of other races, Cyril was like a walking eye of a tornado which couldn't decide if it wanted to grow or vanish completely.

Bluish essence was trickling from him in streams, shrinking to sweaty drops as they neared the edges of the form. Adding more improbable evidence when she noticed that there seemed to be a fire stoked right in the heart of the cyclone which the rippling blue tried to choke.

All she could see though was that more and more fiery sparks burst from the unnatural pond, adopting shapes that if she could put a body to Taint itself this was how it would look like.

This can't be right, a dragon, without being purple or black, cannot wield two elemental powers at the same time. The pain from her jaw must have projected right to the brain since she sees things like that.

With the last thanks she finally managed to pierce the supportive crowd, landing two heavy steps on the floor she shook her brain cells back in place. The ground, both in sight and feeling turned solid again, opportunity she didn't want to waste without giving her mental health a chance for a breather as well.

Cyril's body was single colored, disjointed mess again. He stopped near one of the statues, offering a nod to the Ancestor representing Determination before heading back the way he came. The city was a recovering miracle already that nobody even considered, even the most opposing of the temple Guardian, that even in the most skeptical there is no faith to be found.

Cyril's presence might have startled everybody, but since the Seeker recovery, the sight of a Guardian like him paying tribute to the Ancestors wasn't considered spectacular enough to even graze the podium of divine intervention. Since nobody paid attention to that, why would day focus on a flicking flame of a candle housed at the statue's feet, a flame, that among its peers, due to its strength, was alien in comparison to its surroundings.

Like a still twinkling head of a match in a dark forest.